


Part-Time Shag

by TheNinth



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Het, Multi, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-13
Updated: 2008-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNinth/pseuds/TheNinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's he got over me?" He asked the empty room. "What makes the teaboy better than me? I'm a doctor! A proper doctor!"</p><p>That had been enough for Jack once. A doctor with skilled hands and a bad reputation for an incredible bedside manner. Before Ianto had been brought back to Cardiff. Before Canary Wharf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part-Time Shag

**Author's Note:**

> Set between S1-E12 and E13.

"You're just a part-time shag," he spat and what he'd never admit is that he wanted to believe it. He knew better. He'd seen the way Jack looked at Ianto. He'd seen footage they thought they wiped from the Hub's internal CCTV (He didn't allow himself to think that Ianto might have left it there on purpose).

His shoulder ached and his arm was sticky with drying blood that he wouldn't let Gwen wash away and he was getting really sick of the pitying looks from Tosh. Ianto was in Jack's office - presumably getting a dressing-down for taking a shot at Owen - and the sight of Ianto's profile (jaw clenched, lips pursed, brow furrowed) was making him (horny) furious.

And then Jack tipped his head to the side and gave that smile - that smile that could turn anyone on their ear and make them give in - and Ianto was responding with a sly smile of his own. Then they were laughing and Owen dropped the book he was holding.

Gwen picked it up and handed it over, obviously concerned. "Owen, you should go home and rest. We can call you if we find Bilis."

"I'm fine," he snapped, then took a deep breath. "I'm fine. It just twinges a little. Makes my grip a bit weak."

"That's what I'm talking about! You should go home, take some pain pills, and rest. How are you going to manage a gun if you can't hold it?"

"I'll use my other arm? Now if you don't mind, I'm sure you've got something to do that isn't hovering over me while I'm doing my work. " He shooed her away with his good arm and returned to covertly watching Jack and Ianto.

Jack was leaning across his desk, toward Ianto. Owen knew that posture. He knew Jack would be speaking softly, uttering explicit suggestions. Lips parted but barely moving, leaving just a suggestion of his tongue as it formed the words. And then there it was. The Jack Harkness Finishing Move. The tip of Jack's tongue was caught between his teeth, and his eyebrows were raised questioningly and playfully.

"Predictable," Owen muttered and this time he slammed the book down. Gwen and Tosh both jumped and looked over at him. "I'm going home," he said. "And I'm getting some rest. Call me if anything interesting happens." He left just as Ianto was touching the collar of Jack's shirt.

* * *

 

At home, Owen poured himself a double whiskey. He dropped one chipped ice cube in as an afterthought and gave the drink a lazy swirl with his finger.

"What's he got over me?" He asked the empty room. "What makes the teaboy better than me? I'm a doctor! A proper doctor!"

That had been enough for Jack once. A doctor with skilled hands and a bad reputation for an incredible bedside manner. Before Ianto had been brought back to Cardiff. Before Canary Wharf.

Jack and Owen had fucked on the roof of the Millennium Centre, watching the distant shimmering glow of the exploded Sycorax ship. They'd shagged in his office while reports of Canary Wharf rolled past on the screen. One memorable night included Beth, the tech who preceded Tosh. Owen never counted the blowjobs, but he was certain he got more than he gave, and that was all that mattered to him.

And then along came Ianto with his Welsh accent (they were in Wales, for fuck's sake! Why did Jack treat Ianto like he was some exotic thing?) and his tailored suits ( I could dress like that, Owen sulked. It's just impractical for field work .) and his dry sense of humour, and his strong hands, and his... .

Owen, still standing in the middle of the room, downed his drink in one long gulp, spat the ice back into the glass, and threw the glass at his front door. It cracked but didn't break, and landed on the thick carpet with a dull plop. "Fucking metaphoric," Owen muttered.

"It's not like I love Jack or anything," he told the flat. "We were never lovers. Just fuck buddies." He retrieved the tumbler and ran his fingertips over the crack. "Just a way to pass the time. Let off steam. Until that twat showed up and then Jack started making excuses. Stopped shagging everyone as far as I know. Like he was saving himself for that... Teaboy."

He cringed. How was "teaboy" the worst thing he could think to call Ianto?

Suzie broke things off when she became obsessed with the glove. Gwen ended things to patch things up with her limp-dick boyfriend. And Diane....

"And what has he got that I haven't?" he asked his reflection. "Why's he special to Jack? Why does Ianto get Jack, and the only person I've ever loved couldn't even stand to be with me?"

Diane. Willing to risk her own death to get away from him. God, did that fucking hurt.

Somehow, though, it didn't hurt half as much as getting shunned for that poncy, fairy, Taffy bastard. He backed up a few steps and threw the glass again. This time it exploded into tiny, sparkling shards.

"You fucked us all, Ianto!" He raged. "You brought a monster into our home. It nearly killed us all. It nearly killed Jack! And what does he do?"

Owen stalked to his computer and flicked on the monitor. An illicit feed of the Hub's CCTV flashed on, cycling through various angles until he saw them. Jack was leaning against the wall just outside his office, Ianto's hands on the back of his head, protecting it from the wall. Both men were stripped down to tee-shirts and trousers; Jack's braces hung limply at his sides and his hands were under Ianto's shirt.

They were kissing. Just kissing. Long, unhurried kisses. Owen's rage twisted into acute embarrassment. This wasn't anything like watching a quick shag or a messy grope. Something like that he could mock. This, though? Owen switched off the monitor and ran a hand through his hair.

"He fucking falls in love."


End file.
